


Monster

by theinvalidedsoldier



Series: Songs with Spideypool [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Bullying, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Songfic, Violence, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wade Wilson-Centric, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvalidedsoldier/pseuds/theinvalidedsoldier
Summary: This is pretty much Wade-centric, which I've started to do much more as of late.This is, of course, based on the song 'Monster' by Imagine Dragons.I've never done a song-fic before, but here's to trying something new.Enjoy!





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much Wade-centric, which I've started to do much more as of late.
> 
> This is, of course, based on the song 'Monster' by Imagine Dragons.
> 
> I've never done a song-fic before, but here's to trying something new. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Ever since I could remember,_  
_Everything inside of me,_  
_Just wanted to fit in._

 

Wade's shitty childhood had always been the butt of all trauma-based jokes for as long as he could remember. They were diluted in their intensity by a dismissive wave and a hasty diversion of the subject at hand. It was the perfect example of one of those particularly tetchy topics for Wade, the type that if he didn't laugh about it, he just might cry.

  Since the first feeble tiptoe he had stepped into the threshold of every and any school, he was seemingly instantaneously hated by all of his peers and teachers alike, each and every school the exact same.

  His peers teased him relentlessly, though Wade didn't exactly strain himself with the effort of fitting in. It was just something about Wade that they didn't like, something about his general demeanour. Maybe they weren't quite sure, but it didn't stop the taunts. Popularity wasn't something he had particularly cared or strived for, ever, but that didn't mean it wasn't appealing. 

  Wade distinctly recalled the day he came in wearing a bright pair of white runners, the non-descript brand being the highest expense the Wilson family had invested in for quite some time. His mother had wanted him to fit in almost as desperately as Wade did, on some days, more. They came home caked in congealed mud, a group of boys had wrestled them off his feet and had thrown them into a swampy puddle.

 

 _I was never one for pretenders,_  
_Everything I tried to be,_  
_Just wouldn't settle in._

 

 It was only after his mother died when Wade snapped,  _properly_ snapped.

 The taunting and teasing had stopped, mostly. Everyone seemed to notice the edge that lingered in his ever-darkening gaze, and it made them all uneasy. Even the teachers became more lenient, they gave him less homeworkand didn't bat an eyelid at a low grade or poor quality assignments. They all stared, unapologetically too, but they never said anything, which was good enough for him.

  One particularly incessant tyrant didn't seem to catch on, however. After one distasteful, "Yo Mama" joke that quite  _literally_ nobody laughed at, Wade remembered flipping a table and three chairs to get to the quivering oppressor and- well, it wasn't pretty.

  That was the first time Wade had been expelled from school.

 

 _If I told you what I was,_  
_Would you turn your back on me?_

 

 Meeting Spider-Man, which Wade soon learned was a common alias for one Peter Parker, was a flicker of light in his otherwise pitch-dark abyss of an existence. The hero had at first been more than reluctant to partake in even a conversation with the scarred mercenary, but the two seemed to warm up to each other over the course of many laborious months. It even got to the point where Peter wasn't immediately unnerved at the mention of the _f-word. Friend._

  It was common knowledge that the infamous Deadpool was the epitome of a loose screw, but the extent of which seemed to be thoroughly underestimated by most. And for once in his life, Wade wasn't too crazy -  _ha_ \- about the idea of Peter finding out about just how  _crazy_ he truly could be. Ignorance is bliss.

  Peter knew about the boxes, it had only been a matter of time that said cat was let out of said  _boxes_ as his heated debates with the voices in between his ears were overwhelmingly vocal, but he didn't seem to mind all that much. Wade's cynicism and misanthropy took the backseat.

 

 _And if I seem dangerous,_  
_Would you be scared?_

 

 After only a glimpse of the red-and-blue spandex curled into a ball on the cracked tarmac, Wade could feel his blood boiling, putting him way beyond the point of basic coherency. The only motor skills he possessed were ones that allowed him to slice and dice the  _motherfucker_ that shot at his friend, his only friend.

  He had taken down all seven of the super-human henchmen guarding their pussy of a leader and had left a horrifying trail of discarded limbs and vital organs in his wake when a panicked tenor called out to him.

  Wade had the scrawny, middle-aged man by the neck, toes just barely scuffing the ground. He was the one responsible, so the leather-clad merc felt absolutely devoid of emotion when the man let out a scream of pure agony when his knee was popped out of its socket. A firm hand clasped around Wade's shoulder, halting the desert eagle that was making its journey to the offender's temple.

  "Wade." 

  He dropped the man immediately, albeit reluctantly. Relief blossomed through his body like wildfire when his head had acknowledged Spidey's presence.  _He was okay._

"Wade, leave him. Honestly, I'm alright, the bullet just about grazed me." Peter gestured towards his neck, where truthfully enough, the material had split and a shallow gash bared witness to the bullets discourse. "I'm okay. I promise I'm okay." His voice sounded steady, unwavering even amongst the plethora of death and havoc that Deadpool had wreaked.

  He had grasped onto Wade's arm, and tugged him in the opposite direction, leading him away from the sirens which were steadily increasing in its blatant warning.

 

 _I get the feeling just because,_  
_Everything I touch isn't dark enough_  
_That this problem lies in me._

 

   Somehow, for some unknown reason, some deity decided to allow Wade some well-deserved leeway. 

  Peter not only put up with his antics, his wild temper, and questionable morals, he had decided that he liked them. They had gone from enemies to meer allies, to part-time friends, to full-time besties, to lovers. It had all panned out in a meagre seven months, which had gone by so fast, it made both of their heads spin. 

  The domestic days were Wade's favourite. It was when he bubbled with complete unadulterated happiness. They both enjoyed watching whatever new Netflix Original show they had not yet binged hours of free time on, and ate tubs of ice-cream and tacos by the dozen. 

  The sex was  _extravagant_ , too. It had taken many hour-long discussions of insecurities and hardships, and a few trial and error start-up attempts until Wade was comfortable with brandishing himself in such a vulnerable light, but their first time was one of their best times, without a shadow of a doubt.

 

 _I'm only a man with a chamber who's got me,_  
_I'm taking a stand to escape what's inside me._

 

Wade's head was between his knees, calloused digits grappling onto his hairless scalp with a pain-inducing grip. It was one of his bad days.  _Very_ bad days.

  His head wouldn't shut up. It wouldn't stop, and Wade could feel his descent into rampant anger and uncontrollable panic start its downfall. The boxes were far louder than usual and were completely unforgiving. It had started when Wade spent those extra thirty seconds too long staring into the mirror after his morning shower, that was all it had taken. Though, he supposed, looking at _that_ face for longer than thirty seconds would have had anyone grappling for the nearest spoon to gouge their eyes out. 

  It was one of those days where Peter couldn't even hope to help, not that he didn't try to, of course. During his first freakout of a similar nature, Wade thought that Peter's distance from him was Peter trying to avoid getting hurt or lashed out at. It was only after an insecure inquiry on Wade's behalf when he realised that Peter was only trying to give him space to think, which he didn't even realise that he had needed. Desperately.

  He needed Peter now. Because as the scarred man, wrapped in a ginormous grey hoodie, rocked back on forth on his bed, he quickly realised that time _alone to think_ was not something he needed this time around.

  "Peter," The large man called out, his voice paradoxically small. Wade hoped that he was in, hoped with all of his might.

  There was an interval of fifteen seconds or so of silence, Wade could feel a splinter of pure panic wedge itself straight into his lumbar region. And then, the distinct  _pitter patter_ of padded feet was heard resonating throughout the quaint hallway. The panic was momentarily replaced with relief.  _Thank God._

  "Wade?" A fluffy head of brunette hair poked in the door, which was ever so slightly ajar. It took the similarly brunette eyes only a matter of seconds to adjust and comprehend the situation before him until he was making his way to his distraught boyfriend. Peter detested Wade's miniature breakdowns as much as Wade did, which was an impressive feat in itself. The days were usually dark, some arguments even spawned from the cesspool of insecurities that the younger knew the older man held over himself. It was a difficult area for them both.

  Peter was wearing a large cross-knit sweater, one that was infinitely too big for him. The sight made Wade want to laugh and cry all at the same time. That was the man who loved him, tolerated him, for whatever reason on the fucking planet. How did he manage to land someone so unapologetically adorable? It was unfair, and a dream come true, all at once. 

  The stretched out sweater paws found their way around Wade's waist, gently, oh  _so gently_ pulling him back to lie on the bed. 

  "Bad day?" Wade huffed ever so slightly.

  "What gave it away?" The snarky remark only caused Peter's arms to wrap around him tighter, the lithe body pulling the muscular mess into him accordingly. Wade could feel the warm tufts of breath ripple against the hairs at the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

  "What is it today?" Peter enquired meekly, his tone sweet and unassuming. Only Peter could ask a question so personal in such a nonchalant way. "What are they saying today?"

  He battled internally with the restraint of the admission. "That I don't deserve you," Wade concurred, feeling his lover's arms tighten around him even more, he didn't think that that was even possible. Wade turned around to face Peter, meeting the chocolate eyes he had fallen in love with all those many months ago.

  "Because you and I both know that I don't. I don't deserve you, you're too... good. Too good. Way too good for me." Peter attempted to interject, a slight edge to his voice, "Wade." 

  "I'm going to destroy everything that makes you- _you,_ all because I'm too selfish to let you go. I don't want to let you go, Pete. But I'm not even close to what you deserve, not even fucking  _close._ "

  The look on Peter's face was harrowing, a concoction of angry and frustrated, conflicted. "Wade. Last time I checked, it's my choice as to whether or not I want to be  _'let go',_ and there is not a fucking chance in hell that I'm letting that happen. There's nothing that you could say, and nothing that you could do that would make me think otherwise, so don't you start being all selfless and all-knowing now."

  Small, dry lips started to pepper unwavering kisses to the tip of one scarred nose, then moving to give similar attention to other features of Wade's face. "If you really knew me at all, you'd know that I'd be nothing without you. Nothing. Don't dare forget that."

 

 _A monster, a monster,_  
_I've turned into a monster,_

 

"Wade, please!" Bottled up emotions from opposing sides turned into the screaming match of a century. Another bad day, only two weeks after the previous one, but this one wasn't destined to end with slow, emotional sex and after-care cuddles. Oh no, this was one was the argument to rival all arguments. And it was only beginning.

  "What the fuck do you want me to say, huh?" The steadily increasing bellows started to shake the walls, the vibrations bouncing off one another. A competition, who could be the loudest. "That I'm sorry? That I didn't want the bullet the bullet lodged into my skull to actually  _work?_ Hmm, is that what you want to fucking hear?"

 It wasn't what Peter had imagined walking into after a hard day's work on a Saturday night, but it is what it what is. And what it was, was his boyfriend's brain matter splattered all over the bathroom wall, a Beretta 92 in his splayed out palm. 

  "Jesus Christ, Wade! I had to see that, I had to see that shit. Do you know what that's like? What the fuck, what is wrong with you?" Peter was distraught, hands grabbing wildly at the even more wild locks of stray hair. A cold bark of laughter erupted from Wade's throat, who was still rubbing congealed blood from the back of his head onto a dry towel.

  "You know full well what's wrong with me,  _baby boy_ , and you refuse to accept that," He rambled, stepping closer to his fuming partner, who was as traumatised as Wade had ever seen him. That was a fact that sent a shot of guilt through his being, he'd embedded that image into his Petey's head forevermore.

  " _'I want to fix you, Wade. Please, I'm just dying to fix you with my love and affection. I'd be nothing without you'_ ," Wade mocked, cruelly. He caught the flinch that shocked Peter's body at the heartless taunting, his heart clenching violently. "Really? Fucking, really? Give me a break. You couldn't possibly believe that you could fix this, fix me. Your view of me as some soft fucking princess is childish and distorted, Peter, it's about time that you come to that realisation sooner rather than later."

"Stop, you know you're wrong. You're such an absolute coward, a cowardly piece of shit!" Peter took a step back, relishing only momentarily in the affronted look that crossed the ex-Merc's face. The world around them seemed to be completely stagnant and still, the silence having amplified the tension in the room. They both stood stark still, regarding each other harshly from the opposite ends of the room. 

  "Oh, I'll show you just how fucking cowardly I can be." Wade strode forward, each stride wide and lengthy, reaching Peter in only a matter of seconds. A wave of shame licked at his body when he saw the flicker of fear that breached Peter's façade when he stood before him. Face to face. "Leave." 

  The guarded face fell. Actually, crumbled would be more accurate. Peter's face crumbled, completely, now donning the most vulnerable expression Wade had ever seen him brandish. He looked like Wade had just kicked his dog, or worse yet, Peter was the dog. "What?"

  "You heard me," Wade growled, his jaw clenching. Every atom of his being was screaming at him, the boxes in his head had gone quiet, he was making the biggest mistake of his life, and he knew it. He ignored the incessant cupid banging against his ribcage, begging to be let out. He ignored the part of his brain that insisted on taking the pliable youth into his arms and rectifying his mistake for hours. He ignored them all. "Leave."

  Similarly, the same banging ribcage and the screaming head was occurring with Peter too. More so than ever when he made a mistake not unlike Wade's, uttering the words he knew would be his ultimate demise.

  "Fine, I will."

 

 _A monster, a monster,_  
_And it keeps getting stronger._  


End file.
